


Hospital Blues

by seutedeern



Category: The Nice Guys (2016)
Genre: Family Feels, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-17 12:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11275110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seutedeern/pseuds/seutedeern
Summary: They always end up in hospital. They always look out for one another.





	1. Holland.

**Author's Note:**

> So. Uhm. This is the first time I wrote a Nice Guys fic and I'm really, really, really not sure if I get the tone of the characters right. I'm a bit rusty regarding fic writing. (I mean, after a 1 1/2-year-hiatus…) But I recently re-watched this great film and, at last, I got a little plotbunny for a little ficlet. It's not really plot-heavy, but I hope it's enjoyable nevertheless.
> 
> Thanks a lot to [Obstinatrix](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Obstinatrix/pseuds/Obstinatrix), who beta-ed the fic for me. <3

She might have tried her best not to let her agitation show but Healy saw right through Holly all the way from her school to the hospital. She kept looking around as they drove down the street, asked every five minutes if he couldn’t go _a bit_ faster to which Healy only replied, “Sorry, kiddo, but I’m already going as fast as I can with the cops right behind me.”

She huffed at that, continued to look around, scratched her arm until he could see red marks from her fingernails on her fine white skin. _Poor girl_ , he thought with an inaudible sigh. He had called her school as soon as the ambulance had closed the doors and driven off. Half an hour later, he had waited outside Holly’s school, leaning against his car and finishing up his second cigarette, and when her lanky figure finally appeared by the entrance, it had almost broken his heart to see how she had struggled to stay composed as she approached him.

“Is he okay?” she had asked then, and still she kept asking. And his answer always stayed the same, “I hope so, sweetheart.”

The tension seemed to get to him at last, too, when the hospital building finally came into view. He was grateful that Holly waited for him as he got out of the car – as anxious as she currently was, the girl always stayed considerate. Healy sometimes still wondered how such a little angel could exist with a dad like hers. But perhaps she was just as scared of the outcome of this visit as he was and didn’t want to face going in there all alone. He couldn’t blame her.

At the reception, he was faced with a grim-looking nurse who tried very hard to look too busy to talk to visitors but Healy had the patience of a saint as he asked her politely where he could find Holland March. Holly held his hand all the while.

“Mr. March is in the orthopaedic surgery department. Go down the hallway, turn right, take the stairs to the second level and then turn left.”

“Thank you,” Healy nodded, giving Holly’s hand a light squeeze, before they followed the nurse’s instructions. Which was easier said than done. This hospital resembled a fucking maze. Or maybe it was just the mutual nervousness that had both Healy and Holly walking around aimlessly and, eventually, getting lost. Several interrogations of more nurses and doctors along the way later, they finally arrived in the right department, the right floor and in front of the right door.

“He’s in there, kid," the nurse said. 

"You’re allowed to see him.” Healy said, trying to sound as encouraging as possible, giving Holly a light nudge on the shoulder.

She stared at the door, uncertain, while she worried her lip. “Could you come with me?”

“Sure,” he nodded with a half-hearted smile as Holly grabbed his hand once again, and opened the door.

A light breeze wafted through the tiny room as the door swung open. It was surprisingly bright in there, and Holland March grumbled something in his sleep which sounded a lot like, “Close the fucking door,” but which both Holly and Healy decided to ignore politely. The only thing that mattered was that March was okay, relatively speaking, and that he was still able to cuss and complain about every inconvenience.

“Dad?” Holly’s small voice sounded hopeful as she approached her father’s bed.

March stirred, slowly opened his eyes with his brows furrowed as though he was trying very hard to remember whose voice that could be. When he finally seemed awake enough to recognise his own daughter, a tired smile crept onto his lips.

“Holly! Baby! How did you get here?” he said, his voice rough and heavy with sleep, as he gathered her in his arms. Obviously, Healy’s entire intimidating appearance was something one could easily overlook. If it hadn’t been for Holly, he would have felt like an intruder during this family reunion.

“Mr. Healy picked me up from school so I could see you.”

“Healy…?” March asked, confused, and then he finally looked past his daughter to notice the large silhouette in the back of the room. To say he looked surprised would have been an understatement. The man looked entirely flabbergasted, as though he had seen a ghost. “You did this for her?”

Healy gave a curt nod. “Of course. What kind of heartless asshole do you think I am?” He gave a small laugh but it was lacking the sort of humour that would make it believable. After all, he had just quoted the very same words March had thrown at him a couple of hours earlier, right before the accident.

Despite his concussion, March winced visibly at the remark and looked down back at his daughter in his arms. “Sorry,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “I appreciate it. You know, that you brought Holly here. Took care of her. And all that.”

Healy shook his head. “Don’t mention it,” he sighed, waving his hand dismissively. “I know you’d do the same for me. Well, that is, if I had family.”

March remained silent but the weak smile he gave was affirmative enough for Healy to forget about their argument right before the car had hit March.

“So, how are you doing? Anything broken?” Healy eventually asked as he walked towards March’s bed.

“Oh, just my leg this time. And, well, a nice concussion, too.”

“Do you remember the accident?” Holly then asked with a certain curiosity on her face that made Healy feel a little uncomfortable. What was that emotion in her eyes? Bloodthirstiness? Perhaps a messed up mix of both of them? Either way, March also gave his daughter a weird look before he answered, “Well, no, sweetie. But if you do want to know something curious, I can’t differentiate between blue and green. So there’s that.”

“Wow,” Holly simply said in awe. A twinge of pity overcame Healy as he watched the look of concern edged onto his partner’s features. He let out a small cough in a half-arsed attempt at getting Holly’s attention.

“Holly? We should go now. Your dad’s fine and I can bring you back tomorrow.”

“Fine, Healy? I fucking broke my fucking leg and my fucking brain hurts, too.”

“See? He’s fine, nothing unusual. Let’s go,” Healy smiled and held out a hand for Holly, more out of instinct than anything else.

“Okay, Mr. Healy.” Holly gave her father a quick kiss on the cheek before she hopped off his bed and went to take the proffered hand. “See you tomorrow, dad?”

March nodded. “Tomorrow, darling.”

“Take care,” Healy said, already on his way out as March’s voice suddenly piped up.

“Jackson?”

Healy stopped in his tracks. March had used his name only a handful of times before. Sometimes he wasn’t even sure if March actually _knew_ his name. He turned back to him, eyebrows arched. “Yeah?”

“Thanks, man,” March said with a small, embarrassed cough – and then adding much softer, “And… I’m sorry. I am.”

For some reason, Healy’s throat went dry (too dry too fast, for his taste) and so he simply gave a curt nod and muttered under his breath, “Me too,” before he ushered Holly out of the room.


	2. Holly.

The phone rang just shortly after midnight which, at some other point in his life, might have been still early for him. These days, however, Healy was happy enough to stay at his tiny shabby apartment when he didn’t have to work late, and go to bed early. Like old folks do. He already felt like one of them.

Muttering silent curses under his breath – a habit he had picked up ever since the March family had stumbled into his life and he saw Holly on a daily basis and he didn’t want to teach her even more foul words – he lifted himself up begrudgingly from his couch and walked over to his phone.

“Hello?” he grunted, not quite friendly, as he stretched his tired body only to be greeted by laboured breathing.

“Holly –” March’s voice suddenly piped up, small and rushed, as though the man was having a heart attack and wasn’t his usual snarky self. “ _Holly._ She… Fucking hell, Healy, please help me. Please. I-I don’t know what to do…”

The panicked sound of the other’s voice had Healy awake in a split second.“March? What the hell happened?”

“I… I don’t know, I just got home and she – she was just lying there and, and, fuck – I can’t bear to lose her as well, Healy, fuck –”

Was March…was he crying? Healy wasn’t sure, but he, too, began to panic.

“Hey, hey, _hey_! March! Calm the fuck down, okay?” 

Deep breath. And another. “…Okay.”

“Good. Have you called the ambulance?” Healy asked as he tried to compose himself and keep his memory running regarding what to do in the case of an emergency.

“I-I think so?”

“You _think_ so?!”

“I did! I _did_! But they haven’t arrived yet. Jesus Christ, what am I gonna do if Holly, if she…” March trailed off, the words probably stuck somewhere. Healy could hear how he tried to swallow down the lump in his throat.

Fucking hell.

“Listen to me, Holland. She’ll be all right. Just… Just go to her and watch over her while you wait for the ambulance, okay? Call me when you’re at the hospital.”

“Okay, yeah,” March sounded a bit dazed, a little overchallenged, and Healy wondered in the back of his mind if he was able to follow his instructions. “Will you –” March then began and inhaled sharply. “Will you come, then? When I call?”

“Of course,” Healy replied without having to think twice about it.

All of a sudden, he could hear a noise at the other end of the line coming from afar and as it got louder, March said a hasty goodbye before he hung up.

*

He had been drinking – Healy knew it the moment he spotted March in the hallway outside what he assumed to be the room Holly was in. Or rather: March had had a drink or two, maybe three in order to calm his nerves. Those were exceptional circumstances, out of the ordinary daily drink March liked to treat himself to, and the nurses didn’t look too concerned. After all, this was a father who was worried sick about his only child who seemed to be suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning. Not to forget that nobody batted an eyelid when March lit a cigarette with shaky hands.

It took a surprisingly long time for him to notice Healy approaching him; either he was too lost in thought to notice his surroundings or he was eyeing up one of the nurses – Healy wasn’t sure. However, when Healy finally said his name, March flinched briefly, almost dropping his ciggie in the process, and then looked up at him. For an uncomfortable long moment, he just stared back at Healy.

“You’re here,” he simply said.

“Told you I would come, didn’t I?” Healy replied with the hint of a sad smile. “How’s she doing?”

And that was the moment when there was a crack in March’s seemingly calm façade. Quickly, he looked away while he rubbed at his eyes and loudly cleared his throat a couple of times as he avoided looking at Healy, and the latter understood.

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” Healy quickly said as he sat down next to March. Without thinking twice, he put an arm around the other’s shoulders and, surprisingly, March allowed this to happen, even turned towards Healy to embrace him fully. For a brief moment, Healy wondered how to fucking handle this situation he had never been in before but from the way his partner, _friend_ , clung to him tightly with his shaking frame, he returned the embrace as he slowly stroked up and down March’s back in order to soothe some of his worries.

“It’ll be fine,” he continued to say quietly with a calm voice into March’s hair. “She’s a fighter, and you know that just as well as I do.”

“But Emma –”

Healy tightened the embrace. “I know, but this is different. You found her just in time.”

March only nodded in reply as he returned the squeeze. “Thanks,” he eventually choked out with a raspy voice which was muffled against Healy’s shirt. “You don’t have to listen to me crying like a little sissy, and yet here you are.”

Gently, Healy pulled back from the embrace so he could take a look at March. Despite himself, he gave a sad little laugh. “Well, believe it or not, but for some fucked up reason, you and Holly are the closest thing to a family that I’ve had in years. I care about her. And a little about you, too. So there you go.”

“Don’t get all emotional on me, man,” March huffed out with slightly pink cheeks as he wiped at his eyes. Was he embarrassed? Healy found he liked that idea. “Anyway,” March then continued as he let go off Healy who frowned at the sudden loss of warmth against him. “We can’t go see her yet. That blonde nurse over there told me to go home and come back tomorrow but I don’t want to.”

“I can wait here with you,” Healy offered, then added slowly, “That is, if you want me to.”

March looked at him for a moment – unnecessarily long that was – and then gave a curt nod. “I’d like that, yeah.” He nudged Healy’s arm gently with his elbow. “After all, I can’t throw a family member out, can I?”

Healy gave a crooked smile at that and patted March’s knee. The other man looked weirdly pleased despite the awful situation.

*

They were crudely woken up by a nurse who, at first glance, looked like a massive bear to Healy’s sleep-muddled brain. It took him a couple of seconds to realise what she was saying – March was allowed to go and see Holly.

He turned his head, half-expecting his partner to be awake and making a bee-line for his daughter’s room, until he heard a soft grunt and finally began to notice the weight on his lap. At some point over the course of the night, they both must have fallen asleep. He didn’t remember that he had allowed March to use his lap as a pillow, but in this very moment, he found that he didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Thanks,” he whispered to the nurse, indicating that she could leave now. When she had disappeared back into the nurse’s room, not quite without a sceptical look on her face, he finally looked down at March still asleep in his lap. He looked tired, exhausted even. There were dark shadows underneath his eyes. Lightly, Healy brushed a blond lock from March’s forehead… until he flinched hard when he realised what the fuck he was actually doing there.

“Hey, man, wake up.” He gave March’s side a gentle, yet distinct nudge and the other stirred. Fucking Christ, why did he have to _move_ his head so much when waking up? “March, wake up. You can go and see Holly.”

“Holly–?” With an abrupt movement, he jerked up from Healy’s lap and half-landed on the floor in the process. “Where–?” he asked as he looked around in confusion. Second after second, he seemed to remember where he was. “I can go…?” 

“C’mon, get up. Your kid’s waiting.”

As he moved to stand up, Healy pulled up March in the process. The other man might have been a little taller than him but he weighed practically nothing in Healy’s bruiser opinion. He half-dragged March over to the door, then tugged at his shirt and collar in a weak attempt at making him look a little decent and not like some drunkard who had spent the night underneath a table in a shady bar. When he moved to comb back March’s hair a bit, the latter swatted away his hand like an annoying fly, accompanied by a prissy, “Jesus Christ, fucking stop that bullshit, Healy. You’re not my mom.”

Healy rolled his eyes. “Fine, go in there looking like tramp. Holly will be _delighted_.”

“ _Not_. My mom.” March glared at him, pointing at him with a finger as if to berate him, then turned to open the door. When Healy moved to follow him inside, Massive Bear Nurse appeared outside the nurse’s room.

“Sorry, sir, but you can’t go in there unless you’re a family member.”

March came to an abrupt halt which had Healy running into him. He half-turned towards the nurse, lips pursed and brows furrowed. “ _Excuse me_? That man’s practically family as well!”

“I don’t make the rules, sir. He’s not allowed in there.”

“Well, fuck your rules, seriously,” March spat, grabbing Healy by the wrist and dragging him into Holly’s room.

“Hey dad,” Holly greeted them. She was sitting up and already looking expectantly in their direction. “Did the nurse say Mr. Healy’s not allowed to see me?”

“I don’t give a shit about what that cow’s saying,” March grumbled as he approached Holly’s bed. He sat down next to her and cupped her face gently, brushing her hair back. “How are you doing, sweetie? I was worried sick about you.”

“I can vouch for that,” Healy agreed and earned an irritated look from the other man.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“See?”

Holly gave a weak little laugh. “Thanks for looking after him, Mr. Healy.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

“Hey, hey, _hey_ ,” March piped up as he looked at Holly, then to Healy and then back again. “What the fuck is going on here? Stop acting like I’m some dumb child, Jesus Christ.”

“He even throws a tantrum like one,” Healy remarked dryly, and earned this time a light punch from March, which he accepted good-naturedly. He knew that March would never dare to try and punch him in earnest. March was often a fucking moron but he wasn’t _that_ stupid. In return, Healy reached for March’s shoulder and the latter flinched instantly with his arms raised as if to defend himself. And when Healy patted him with a grin, March deflated like a balloon. Holly giggled.

“Don’t scare dad like this,” she chided Healy even though it was obvious that she didn’t mean it. Her father huffed at her before he embraced her.

“Seriously, Holly, I was losing my mind when… When I found you.”

She didn’t say anything, merely hugged him back. It would have been a sweet reunion to watch, had it not been for the very likely possibility that both father and daughter were thinking of March’s wife, who had died in the fire caused by the gas leak in their old home. Who would have thought that a second gas leak was possible in their rebuilt house? Healy made a mental note to have someone over there the next day to have the entire house checked.

He moved slightly away from the two, feeling like an intruder in this scene. March might have said that he was like family, but he didn’t necessarily feel that way in that precise moment. It didn’t go unnoticed by Holly, however, whose eyes were settled on him while her father still hugged her tightly.

“I’m glad you’re here as well, Mr. Healy,” she smiled sweetly at him and warmth spread in his chest at those words. March, too, let go off Holly slightly to look at him – and, fuck, nervousness suddenly got a hold of Healy. This was too much attention for him to feel comfortable with. It didn’t help that both Holly and March looked at him like… like they were grateful to have him in their lives. Like he was the best fucking thing that had happened to them in years.

He averted his gaze, directed it at his feet as he stuffed his hands inside the pockets of his trousers, coughing awkwardly. “Of course I had to check up on you, kiddo. But thank your dad – the nurse wouldn’t let me see you.”

“Well, she was a real bitch to you.”

“She was just following orders.” Healy already knew what was coming next.

“You know who else was following orders?”

“Hitler, I know. You’ve already mentioned that once or twice,” Healy laughed and shook his head. God, what an idiot March sometimes was. But, Healy found, it only made him more likeable. As he looked at Holly, who rolled her eyes at her father and his lack of general education, and March, who seemed blissfully unaware of the waves of disappointment rolling off his daughter, he thought that, yes, they kind of were his family now. And he liked that idea.


	3. Jackson.

It had been his fault. As per usual. He was such a fucking loser who always endangered the ones close to him and those he loved. And, granted, there weren’t many people in this world who belonged into that category, but those few around always were in mortal danger.

There was his wife, of course. Already dead.

Holly, just a while ago – not quite dead yet.

And now Healy, too. Maybe not quite yet, but very likely to bite the dust within the next few hours.

March still remembered everything with a frightening clarity, and he cursed himself that he hadn’t got himself a drink right after he had managed to find a phone booth to call the ambulance.

If it hadn’t been for Healy, he would have been the one getting shot by that bastard whose name he couldn’t even remember right now. However, it should have been him to catch the bullet – after all, the gun had been aimed at him. But some greater power had had Healy pushing him out of line just in time when that asshole had pulled the trigger. And then he had slumped to the ground with a guttural groan while March had been watching him in horror. Of course the suspect had run away in the meantime but that hadn’t been of interest to anyone at that point; March had knelt down next to Healy and pulled him onto his lap.

“Fucking Christ, man, what the fuck have you done?! Why did you –” he had almost yelled at him, his voice having gone up a fair notch while he had been unable to keep his eyes off the gaping bloody hole in Healy’s side.

“Had to… help you, you moron…” Healy had spluttered out with a cough. For once, March hadn’t been drunk, and thank fuck he had done a first aid course at Holly’s school just two weeks prior – even though it hadn’t included what the fuck to do in case of a shooting – but it had helped him to feel a little more confident and not to freak out entirely.

“Don’t fucking die on me, Jack, or I’ll fucking kill you myself, you hear me?” March had taken off his jacket in order to press it against Healy’s gaping wound. Unexpectedly gently, he had brushed that one recalcitrant lock from Healy’s forehead. “I’m gonna look for help. Don’t move.”

“I’m not planning to… but thanks for the tip,” Healy had been smiling at him, tired, and March’s heart had been breaking a little at that. With much reluctance, he had left him in order to find help.

And now, three hours later he was still at the hospital in some cold, uninviting waiting room, waiting for _some_ news regarding his partner, but nobody was able to tell him anything. When he had arrived at the hospital, he still had had a full pack of cigarettes in his pocket. Now, there were only four left. Of course he had already phoned Holly as well. She had instantly said that she wanted to come but he had rejected that idea immediately. He’d pick her up the next day. When finally a competent looking person approached him, and March didn’t give a flying fuck as to whether it was a doctor or a nurse, he sat up straight while his knee jerked up and down restlessly.

“Mr. March?”

“Yeah –” His voice came out rougher than he expected, and he cleared his throat. “Yes, that’s me.”

“I’m here to inform you that Mr. Healy’s condition is… well, better than it was when he arrived here. Fifteen minutes later, and we couldn’t have saved him.”

“Fif…Fifteen minutes?” So if March had been slower or too drunk to find help, Healy would have died. At that realisation, panic nearly overwhelmed him.

“Mr. March?” the doctor-or-nurse said as she kneeled down next to him with worry in her eyes. “Breathe in and out slowly in order to calm down. Slowly, yes.”

Fuck, he couldn’t stand the thought that Healy could have died.

“Do you feel better?”

“What kind of question is that?” he remarked unhappily, and she gave a weak shrug in return. “Can I see him?”

“Not tonight, sorry. He’s still not entirely stable and has lost too much blood…” She trailed off, averting her gaze.

“Maybe I can donate?” he offered without thinking twice. For a split second he wondered since when he'd become so generous, but this wasn’t the right time to ponder over such questions.

She looked at him for a long moment as she searched in his face for something, and then – “Well, if your blood types match, sure. There’s just a form regarding your health you’d need to fill out and then, hypothetically, you could donate.”

“Fine, I want to help. Where can I find this form, Miss–?”

“ _Doctor_ Powell,” she said with an arched eyebrow, “Follow me, I’ll bring you to the blood donation department.”

“Jesus, how big is this place?”

“Very,” she replied and started to walk.

“Can I go and see him when I’m done?” March asked, like the persistent P.I. he was.

Doctor Powell sighed loudly but didn’t stop walking. “ _Maybe_ , Mr. March. I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep.”

“All right. Maybe’s better than nothing.”

They fell into silence for a little while as he followed her through the almost empty halls of the hospital. She shot him one or two strange looks until he’d had enough.

“What? Have I got something in my face?”

“No,” she replied, smiling slightly, “I was just wondering… Mr. Healy means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

“Well,” March huffed and warmth suddenly shot up to his face, “He’s my partner. Of course I care about him.”

“Your _partner_ …?” Doctor Powell raised her eyebrows at that.

“Oh, you know. Work and stuff.” Holly’s voice suddenly popped up in his head, mocking him _Don’t say ‘and stuff’. Just say ‘work’._ It distracted him a little from the flutter in his stomach, caused by whatever that doctor might have insinuated regarding his relationship with Healy.

“I see,” she then said and fell silent again.

March opened his mouth in protest, wanting to say that, _no_ , she apparently did not understand him and that things weren’t like she _thought_ they were, he had been a married man, for fuck’s sake. He’d even pick up his _daughter_ in a few hours to bring her to see Healy because… well, okay, maybe he should just shut up entirely before he’d make things even worse.

“Here we are, Mr. March. Nurse Judy knows what to do and she’ll take care of the blood donation.”

Jesus, he hoped the colour in his cheeks wasn’t too obvious.

“Okay. Thanks, doctor,” he said and hurried past her towards the room where Nurse Judy was already waiting.

*  
Holly seemed more agitated than him when he picked her up from home the next day, even though _he had been the one to witness first hand what the fuck had happened_. He wasn’t sure whether or not he should feel offended at that.

Once they arrived at the hospital, March suddenly felt reluctant to go and see Healy. He hadn’t been allowed to see him the night before, despite his insisting and begging, but now he wasn’t sure anymore if he still wanted to see the other man all stitched up and bandaged. March kind of hated hospitals, and really, really, really hated seeing people who meant something to him in pain.

“He’s asleep,” one of the nurses told them, “but you may go and see him now, if you want to.”

“Thanks,” March said with a nod while Holly made a beeline for Healy’s room. Before he or rather his impending panic attack could stop her, she had already disappeared inside the room. With a silent curse he followed her slowly. He didn’t directly walk into the room; he could see his daughter standing at the end of what he supposed to be Healy’s bed. She was standing completely still, and even when he approached the bed as well, she didn’t move, her eyes still on Healy.

Christ, Healy looked like shit – or, to be more precise, he already looked pretty much dead to him. March could feel his heart sink. What once used to be a strong bull of a man was now reduced to this pale, weak-looking lump. However, he was still breathing and that was all that counted, the gentle rise and fall of his chest half covered in bandages. As he was looking at his partner, there was an irritating lump in his throat beginning to form. He swallowed hard.

“Is… He’s still alive, yeah?” Holly asked with a small voice which made her sound like a little girl again. It wasn’t until now that March noticed that she had taken his hand, that she was looking at him and that her eyes were wet. Fuck.

He blinked quickly and rubbed with his free hand at his eyes so he wouldn’t start crying as well because he was a goddamn adult and a _man_ and he wouldn’t start sobbing now just because his friend was lying in hospital with a potentially mortal wound.

“Here, take my handkerchief,” he suddenly heard Holly say, and he noticed that his vision had gone blurry.

“Thanks, sweetie.” He let out an awkward cough as he wiped at his eyes. “For now he’s safe, yeah. They’re taking care of him.”

Holly nodded even though her bottom lip was trembling slightly. March couldn’t stand seeing her like this. He knelt down and pulled her into a tight hug.

“I promise you, he’ll be okay.”

He hoped he wasn’t wrong.

*  
There was light, he knew as much. And some sounds, too. From the street? From next door? He wasn’t sure.

His side was hurting, and he moved a little, just a fraction, only to stop it immediately at the instant pain that soared through his body.

Moving was definitely a bad idea.

Slowly, Healy opened his eyes, blinking two or three times before he took a look around. Where the fuck was he? And why wasn’t he wearing a shirt? And –

Now he began to remember bit by bit what had happened. They had been hunting down that miserable Italian minion dude who was the cousin of some Mafioso, and that asshole had aimed a gun at March.

Oh.

Now he knew where he was, why he was in pain… and why March was here.

Well, he wasn’t necessarily sure why the other man was sitting at his bed, asleep with his arms folded on his mattress as a makeshift pillow, but nonetheless, Healy appreciated the fact that he wasn’t alone and that someone cared about him enough to wait for him.

Even in his sleep, March’s brows were furrowed in what looked like worry to Healy’s drug muddled brain. He almost felt sorry when he gently nudged March’s arm in order to wake him up but he felt like he owed it to him to let him know that he was doing fairly okay.

March grumbled something unintelligible as he rubbed his cheek on his arms. Healy smiled at that but continued to nudge him.

“March, wake up.”

“Mmh… No… Lemme sleep…”

“Well, if you sleep, I won’t be able to thank you for being here, now will I?”

A startled snore, a twitch, and suddenly March opened his eyes to look right back at Healy.

“You’re alive!”

“Uh, yeah. I think so,” Healy replied, amused.

“Jesus Christ, I was so worried, and Holly, and I thought you were gonna –” March didn’t finish the sentence. He nearly crawled on the bed and on top of Healy as he moved to embrace him.

“Hold on – ugh – be careful, Holland! You’re hurting me!”

“It can’t be much worse than being fucking shot, so shut up,” March sighed with relief as he pressed his face into Healy’s neck.

Healy hugged him back with one arm as he surrendered to his fate of being smothered to death by affection. He buried his face in March’s hair, inhaling deeply, and he found that he was rather comfortable with this. March didn’t seem to mind this position either as he made no advances to move even an inch away. Instead, he just nuzzled at Healy’s neck and inhaled his scent at the soft spot behind his ear.

“I was so worried, you’ve got no idea,” he repeated with a low murmur that sent an involuntary shiver down Healy’s spine.

“Yeah?” he rasped out.

“Yeah,” the other murmured as he grazed his lips along the skin beneath Healy’s earlobe before he planted a light kiss just there.

And then both of them froze.

 _What the fuck was that?_ , Healy wondered as he waited for March to move. But the latter stayed still as well, like a deer caught in headlights.

“What have I done, what have I done, what the fuck, Holland, what the _flying fuck_ , you idiot, why the fuck did you _do this_ –”

“Holland –”

“God, you’re so fucking _stupid_ –”

“Holland. I don’t know if you’re aware of this but I can actually hear you. Stop thinking out loud if you don’t want me to hear it.”

March sighed, his shoulders slumped, and with much reluctance, he pulled away to face Healy. He wasn’t directly looking at him when he spoke, however. Healy noticed that the other’s face was fire red.

“I’m… I’m sorry about that. I don’t know why I did it. Maybe got ahead of myself a little.” He rubbed at his neck, looking guilty. Healy felt sorry for him. “I guess I fucked up.”

“Come on, it’s not the end of the world,” Healy tried in an attempt to comfort him. “It was certainly unexpected and… well, you’re the first man to, uhm, kiss me like that but don’t worry.”

“Well, how would you feel if you were in my position?” March replied tartly as he moved back onto his chair beside the bed.

“I don’t fucking know, man,” Healy sighed. March looked so unhappy right now, like he would rather have aliens abduct him than be confronted with this situation. “But,” Healy then continued, frowning a little as he reached for March’s hand to give it a squeeze, “I wouldn’t freak out the way you do. I’d just, dunno… Maybe go along with it?”

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?”

Healy shrugged, which was rewarded with instant pain. Goddammit.

“I’m just saying that I’d take a moment to see if, you know, if I kinda liked it?”

“So, you’re a… you’re a–?” March couldn’t even bring himself to say that word outloud. Healy had always imagined him to be a little more open-minded. Well, then.

“Honestly? I’ve never thought about it. I’ve only been with women so far – shitty ones, at that – so maybe it’s a sign that I should broaden my horizons.” He looked at his partner, his friend who still didn’t seem convinced but at least he hadn’t tried to free his hand yet. Instead, he was holding on to Healy’s. Hesitantly, Healy began to rub his thumb slowly over March’s soft skin. “How about you?” he then asked, careful.

March looked down at their joined hands and shrugged helplessly. “I’ve got no fucking clue, really. This is the first time I did something like that. Because it felt… right? I guess?”

“So you wanted it?”

“I…” March finally looked up at him, blinking, “Yeah.”

“Wanna try it again?”

“Do you think we should?”

“Just to be on the safe side, yeah.”

“You think so? I mean, I can also go, if you want me to –” March pointed towards the door with his eyebrows raised.

“C’mere, you moron,” Healy sighed and pulled March in.

And this time, they both went along with it just fine.


End file.
